


We Can Listen To The Rain

by imaqueen1234567



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Happy Ending tho, M/M, Sad, Suicide, depressed, self injury, selfharm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:01:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaqueen1234567/pseuds/imaqueen1234567
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is the boy who hides from everyone, the bitter one who can't see the good in anything, the one with red slashes covering his limbs. What happens when Louis Tomlinson comes along? Will things change, or only get worse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Listen To The Rain

It wasn't that Harry had exactly wanted to be this way. It was just the card he'd been dealt in life-- and it sucked. Harry had a lot that went on. And he could tell when it would happen. It was all too often.

Sometimes it would happen twice a day, sometimes only once. On rare occasions, not at all. But that was nearly not ever. Harry's father, he would come home, find something he didn't like... And beat Harry for it. But Harry was numb. And he didn't mind, he was used to it. It wasn't the pain from the beatings-- it was the fact that his father beat him, just because. Just because. 

 

Harry would break down in the school bathroom, he would cry, he would...do things he wasn't quite proud of, too, but it took away the pain, for the most part. Harry was just... Numb. He couldn't feel anything. And that was the worst feeling ever. 

When Harry felt this way and it was all too much, all too overwhelming, he would get in the top of the closet, pull out the small paper box that contained all the razors, and he would do what most people didn't. He would slice his arms. Legs. Stomach. And he would lay, right in his bathroom floor, and he would feel. He would feel the pain. 

Now of course, he felt the pain of his father beating him, he had no choice. But he still felt numb. Self injury.... It was a way for Harry to punish himself. Why doesn't he love me? he would think as he slid the shiny, sharp metal over his incredibly skinny thighs, watch the dark red bubble up. And from the first cut, it was all blurry.

"Shut up, Harry! I don't want to hear it! You're useless!" His father had shouted, bringing his hand down across his already red cheek for a third time. Now he was stinging, all over, but he sobbed and pleaded. He was only fourteen at the time. "Daddy! Please! I'm sorry!" He screamed, pleading, but his father didn't stop. By the time his father was done, he was bruised and red and his lip was busted.  
He ran straight into his room with clumsy legs, slumping against the wall with a sob. He looked up slowly, glancing at the pack of razor blades he'd bought for his art project at school. Sculpting. 

And that was when he did it for the first time. It was only a few shallow cuts on his wrist, but it was still a cut. A cut that would spiral out of control. Now it was deep slashes everywhere, with no tears to blur the vision of the cuts that made him feel. 

Harry was seventeen now. Three years, he'd been doing this, along with starving himself. It wasn't just his father alone he had to worry about. School was bad, too.

There were a group of boys, ones he hated, that somehow found him no matter how hard he tried to avoid them. And they would say the cruelest insults, call him every name under the moon. But what did he care? They were right.  
~~


End file.
